Choosing to Be Ready in the Face of Uncertainty
After an extensive excursion out into the woods and up a series of hills, we arrived at McKinley Rock. This monolith overlooks the Steamboat Watershed and casts its imposing shadow upon eager climbers. On this day I had the opportunity to lead a multipitch route for the first time, and the idea of this was daunting to say the least.
Going after novel rock is usually nerve-wracking. It could be an unusual texture or require a different approach to making the climb happen. In this instance the rock was grippy, making for solid footwork options on what otherwise seemed blank. The dirty quality of the lower portion of the route didn’t necessarily inspire confidence either.
Handholds seemed to be the conundrum at first, until the route began to let up. I coasted (physically but perhaps not mentally) up the first pitch and patiently waited for my follower. He then took on a particularly daring roof-pull and before I knew it the third and final pitch was up to me.
I had only recently begun to cool off in wake of the oddly mental climb on the first pitch and now it was time to go for it again. For the first pitch, I had the benefit of starting from the ground. On this one, I had to begin suspended much higher in the air than I’ve ever had the chance to do. I took my time taking in the views and working myself up to it.
The last pitch was a fairly low grade slab, a style that I enjoy and usually feel capable of climbing. Unfortunately the first bolt felt like it had adopted this strange tendency of getting further and further away the longer I waited. I knew what was required to get to it, it was simply a matter of executing.
I practiced deep exhalations, I fidgeted with my chalk bag. I did everything I could think of to bring my mind and body up to speed with the idea of being “ready” for this climb, but in spite of all that I wasn't convincing myself. Eventually I realized that if I didn’t proceed, then we weren’t going anywhere. The only way out was up, or tangling up the rope to switch out leaders which also didn’t sound terribly appealing. I opted for going for the pitch.
Taking one last deep breath, I reached for the first notch and followed up quickly with my legs, leaving me in a bunched up position before stepping into a tiny dish and pistol squatting up and within reach of the bolt. I breathed a deep sigh of relief and clipped the hanger. The first one was done, and all the rest would follow shortly enough.
It was at this point that my mind immediately dropped into a memory I had of waterskiing, and I didn’t hesitate to share this with my belayer. When water skiing there’s this brief moment where you’re all set up and you have your skis pointed up, knees bent, sitting in your chair, about to go. The only thing between you and getting going is calling out “ready” to the boat
driver.
I consider myself a solid skier, and maintain that it’s “just like riding a bike.” However, each time before I start, particularly with slalom, there’s a split second of hesitation. I move slightly out of position or the ski tilts off to one side. Some kind of micro adjustment that makes me slip just outside the range of total readiness. Before that hesitation takes over, I have to yell “ready” and go for it.
Much like the route I was on, I had to accept the fact that I wasn’t totally ready and probably might not ever be on this particular day. In these situations, sometimes all you can do is act (within reason) and live with the consequences that follow. Readiness is not always a state of being but more of a choice or action that is taken. Sometimes this choice is easier said than done.
